Watch out for the man that airs his opinions as facts; if he does that, pretty soon, he’ll believe it.
V. Shnodgrate, Renowned PL Poet
I mean, this professor got to nap.
The burly chap and the lady stayed pretty much to themselves.
Capital, I say. Quite capital.
Anyways and some, once the plane landed we waited around in the plane, smashed together–without any air, mind–like beetles in a beetle paste, until the ramp was up and rocking out.
Now, here’s the thing about the professor: I travel light. So light, in fact, you probably wouldn’t think I was traveling if you saw me about.
I had a pack.
And that’s it.
Where was I?
Oh yes, the ramp.
Once off the ramp, I was free.
At least, it felt that way.
See, I had arrived at Space Dock Morchester. One of the busiest Space Docks in the land.
People were everywhere. Screaming, shouting, talking, laughing, crying, dying (medics were with them, I promise), and sleeping on benches and chairs.
It was something to behold.
Bags and suitcases were everywhere, too.
“Look there,” said one chap who was passing by with his wife. He was pointing to a red bag off by its own in the corner, near the restroom.
“What about it?” she said.
“A bomb, I bet.”
“Not a chance,” she said. “Remember the first rule? Never put bombs in a red bag. Everyone sees red. How many years did we work in the business and you still don’t get the basics?!”
Rats and a Heifer! What a thingy.
As a rule–and this professor doesn’t make too many rules, usually–Space Docks are full of violent people. I mean, it figures out, if you figure it.
Figure: People from all over TPL put together, and then, add people from the whole Honi Galaxy. Yup. A recipe for something to burn, I say.
So, this professor went off, searching for my dock.
“This way, this way!” shouted one woman in a uniform. “If you’re heading for dock 5!”
I wasn’t, of course.
The professor was heading to dock 10. And no one had anything to say about it.
Thus, I slugged on, like a slug, through the crowd, always being sure to watch that I didn’t get thieved from. Never know when that might happen. #AlwaysWatchful #AlwaysCareful Professorish Mantra, right there.
Then I heard him:
“Oh my. Look who it is.”
I spun around.
Leaning against a fake island tree was Mr. Daniel H, the kids writer.
I approached, cautiously.
“Hello,” I said.
“Bet you didn’t expect to see me,” he said.
“Not at all, really,” I answered. “And you wouldn’t know the way to dock 10, would you?”
Daniel shook his head. “No, I’m heading for dock 3. I have a book to publish. I don’t know why, but my publishers moved to another planet. That’s not fair. Not fair at all.” Then he squeaked. He does that from time to time.
And that’s when the professor saw the sign for dock 10.
I also saw another thing, which was way scarier and gave me the shudder:
Manly-Man, wearing a pilot’s uniform, was seemingly heading towards dock 10, too.